


Questin' Mark

by Ginger Jam (skylite)



Series: Enchantments Ascend The Falls [2]
Category: Gravity Falls, Gravity Falls Dating Sim, Swooning Over Stans, Wander Over Yonder
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Multiverse, Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylite/pseuds/Ginger%20Jam
Summary: This is the sequel to Possibly Traumatic Stressful Dating, my first Gravity Falls Dating Sim fanwork.  This has kind of grown into its own AU at this point.Dajan's in trouble and Ford feels responsible -- among other things.  He prepares to brave the multiverse to rescue her. And Stan's not letting him go alone.





	1. Off The Cliff and Into Action

**Author's Note:**

> Gravity Falls is the property of Walt Disney Animation and Print, and Alex Hirsh. This is a work meant to show appreciation only and no infringement on the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred.
> 
> Gravity Falls Dating Sim is a fanwork, created by the talented crew of artists and writers at gravityfallsdatingsim.tumblr.com. It is meant to show appreciation to them.
> 
> Khrys, Fixer and Dajan are all my original characters. 
> 
> Also, some similarity to Lost Legends exists, but I had the idea and began writing long before I read the book. I had no idea how similar my ideas were to the creator's! 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of PTSD and paranoia. Light descriptions of emotional abuse. A little fantasy violence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up exactly where Possibly Traumatic Stressful Dating left off, Ford prepares to go get Dajan out of the trouble he is partially responsible for putting her in.

“... Well, that's real noble and all, but… you're gonna go get the lady with a broken leg and a blistered bod?” Woody, aka the Love God, shook his head of blond curls, chuckled and snapped his fingers. In a shimmer of fresh linen and chemicals, Ford Pines suddenly found himself completely recovered from the injuries he'd acquired, with no scars to mark what happened. “Better.” 

Ford’s expression was pure astonishment for about ten seconds, then his mouth pulled into a determined, serious smile. He turned without a word and dashed to the gift shop, and its secret, hidden door to his basement lab. His footsteps fell away quickly. 

“You got any of that for me?” demanded Stan. 

“Bam!” Woody snapped his fingers and a cloud of Cuban cigar smoke and Kobe beef aroma did the same for Stan. Woody grinned as Stan flexed his newly healed arm and worked his jaw without pulling at the butterfly closures. He swore under his breath; tearing the bandages off still stung. 

“I can't stick around for long, but if you're going hunting in the multiverse, you'll need these. Take a good swig now, and one more every day you're not back in your home dimension. Don't miss a day. I mean it. It's important. Don't miss a day, dude. ” The love avatar handed Stan two transparent bottles, each no bigger than a 5 Hour Energy. Whatever they contained sparkled like Mabel juice, but looked much more appetizing. “Drinking your brother’s bottle after your own will only cause it to turn to toothpaste and orange juice smoothie, so don't bother.” 

Stan glanced toward the ceiling and scowled; called out on his very thoughts and, worse, reminded of Dajan. “Twice as annoying when a punk love god does the mind reader thing.”

“That's what you get for being a thief. I'll be around if you guys get into a love related fix, but from here on out, not much I can do to help.” A poof of rose petals and cinnamon, and Woody was gone. 

Wendy simply flopped into Stan’s easy chair. “I'll tell Soos and Molly where you've gone, and we’ll make sure the Shack is still standing when you get back. Seemingly from nowhere, she pulled one of her small hatchets and offered it to Stan, handle first. “Take this, you'll need it. For something.”

Stanley lifted a hand to his chest, actually touched by the gesture. “I never say no to a lady who throws axes.” He blinked hard, then followed his brother downstairs to the basement -- which still hadn't entirely recovered from Ford’s return to this dimension a year earlier. “So, what's our plan?” 

Ford had already removed the walking boot and changed into his traveling outfit. The coat Dajan had dubbed That Cool Coat hung on a peg in the wall waiting to be put back on. Ford was multi-tasking like only he could. A pair of goggles were over his cracked glasses as he worked with one of his many gun devices. His right hand was busily going through the cupboards and drawers beside him, choosing by touch what he planned to bring with him and what he needed to make updates to the weapon he was working on. 

“We get the Stan O’War out of dry dock. We sail far enough away that none of the weirdness overflow will endanger the town, then I fire the quantum destabilizer and open a rift to the multiverse.” Ford was so intent on soldering pieces together on the device itself that it only occurred to him seconds later what his brother had asked. “... Our plan?” 

“Hell yeah, Sixer,” Stan tossed the bottle to his brother without warning. Ford caught it with reflexes honed of 30 solid years surviving the multiverse mostly alone. Stan had said ‘our plan’ expecting his egghead brother to squawk and put up a fight. Instead he’d just accepted ‘we’. 

“You're not disappearing on me for another 30 years.” His next few words were mumbled under his breath. “Besides, the kid is kinda growing on me...and she said we should talk more or something...It'd be what Ma calls ill omened to not take her advice now.”

“She said something similar to me,” Ford admitted, a bit of the manic adventurer’s gleam leaving his eyes. “I hope after we get her out of this mess she stays long enough for us to thank her for that.”

A sudden ringing startled both brothers before the moment could go on. It took Ford a good minute to locate which pocket the phone was in. It was neither of the niblings. Aside from the missing Dajan who no longer had a phone, there was no one else with the number. “Uh… Stanford Pines.”

“You're gonna need a bigger boat. Provisions. Maps.” The voice on the other end was deep, like a baritone speaking from the bottom of a well. On the moon. It sounded impatient as well. 

“Who is this?” 

“I'm The Fixer. I tricked out your phone for you. You're gonna have a hard way to go. Between the ones that want her and the ones that will get between you and her just for shits and giggles. Your lunkhead brother will need a crash course.” 

“Hey! I did all right for myself!” objected Stan hotly. 

“Sure ya did. Between the rap sheet, the pug smuggling, and how many states is it now? Seven? Ten?”

Stan raised a furious finger but just barely snapped his jaw shut before he corrected the voice on the phone. He glowered at the phone in surly silence. Damn hotshot cyber hackers. 

“And you're willing to help us get outfitted for this trip?” Ford asked dubiously. “Dajan has no idea you set this phone up this way, does she?”

“Known her since we were little. She may not be consciously aware but she knows. I look out for her,” said the voice as if this were no real concern. “So yeah, naturally I wanna see you two get my little friend out of the mess you put her in.” 

Stan folded his arms and smirked at his brother. Ford looked chagrined and accepted the criticism without retort. 

The truth was, as much as Ford was loathe to admit it, Dajan, the strange and wonderful woman he'd hoped to start calling his girlfriend had come into his life like a freckled whirlwind. They'd spent a bit over two weeks together, and Ford was beginning to feel like he'd known her all his life. 

It was an unfamiliar and unsettling sensation, so he'd opted to take things slowly. Slowly wasn't quite how things went, despite his intentions. She was so easy to talk to; Ford had ended up sharing his checkered past. To his astonishment, Dajan had listened, been sympathetic. To top it off, she did not run screaming after hearing the worst. 

He'd tentatively asked for a long distance relationship with the intention to build gradually. They had gone their ways, communicating by mail until the boat Ford shared with his brother Stan developed a problem that required immediate attention. Dajan had been eager for the chance to be together again, so they'd made plans for her to return to Gravity Falls. 

Labor day weekend had changed everything. Dajan showed up and swept Ford off his feet between being empathic enough to try easing his temporal displacement, giving him thoughtful gifts, and just being a bright spot in his life. 

The weekend had ended on a sour note. Dajan had come with Stan to rescue Ford from a monster with a grudge. She'd used some clearly nonhuman tricks to accomplish it, and Ford, whose long standing post traumatic stress was as yet untreated by more than Tai chi, had triggered.

Dajan had attempted to serenade Ford earlier in the day, but the song she'd chosen had such strange and resonant lyrics… the combined events of the day brought years of old trauma roaring back, to say nothing of recent trauma. She had seemed too good to be true and from his perspective, she revealed herself to be just that. 

In pain, delirious from his injuries, and nerves on edge, Ford had completely freaked out and denounced Dajan as a filthy inhuman creature plotting against him as Bill Cipher had. To take matters from bad to worse, Ford had also failed to kiss Dajan after her public declaration of love -- which had apparently hit supernatural frequencies -- before he was dragged off, and several other otherworldly entities had decided that meant open season on her. 

Dajan’s location in Gravity Falls had spread quickly and several monsters and creatures had planned to converge to make their own declarations -- or steal her for themselves. Dajan had been left with no choice but to run to keep the town safe. It had only been entities of love and chaos that made her escape possible. 

Now the Pines brothers had to race against time to get to Dajan before something worse got ahold of her or killed her because she wasn't the supernatural powerhouse they thought she was. To make matters worse yet, Ford had to admit to himself that thinking of Dajan in danger made his spine freeze. 

Worse still, he was finding himself less and less able to think of his world without her at all. Something in his brain vapor locked anytime the idea tried to surface. 

“... What do we need to do in order to accept your help?” 

“You're gonna need to find the Dark Market. Dial the phone widdershins twice on the odds and once on the evens when you find it. I'll meet you there and we can talk.” The call ended abruptly and the phone returned to screensaver mode. 

“Any ideas where this black market is?” Stan asked from the stairs. 

“Yes,” Ford replied going back to his work with a furrowed brow. “it moves around according to my research. “Usually it stays in one place until the next new moon, then moves again. I believe a key is needed to enter, no matter its location.” 

“OK Google,” called Stanley, coming back into the room. “When’s the next new moon?”

Google obediently gave the exact time of the new moon: just a little over 24 hours. “Your girl taught me that. Tick-tock, Sixer. Where to?” Stanley seemed to have already accepted them as a couple, despite Ford’s explosion of panic, temper and bad judgement. That was heartening. He'd been able to see what Ford had not been willing to. 

“The Northwest...that is, the McGuckett family mansion,” responded Ford, whose face had gone ashen at how little time they had. “I suspected the Northwest family’s wealth was obtained through nefarious and unnatural methods.” 

“McGuckett got time to help?” Stan asked, frowning. 

“He was willing to forgive my hubris. If I tell him it's an emergency, perhaps he will set a project aside for me.” 

“All right. I'm gonna go get the Stan O’War and hitch her up. I'll be back with her in the morning. You go find this Fixer guy and don't let him scam you.” 

Stan extended a hand and Ford grasped it hard. 

They broke the handshake and Stan stomped his way up the stairs. The growl of the Stanmobile’s engine was audible, as was the screech of rubber on pavement as Stan peeled out, a man on a mission. 

An hour later found Ford back upstairs, with his duffel bag packed to bulging and hanging off his shoulder like it weighed nothing. He was thumbing through Stanley’s photocopies of his journal pages when Wendy spoke up. “Go find Shmebulock,” she suggested after watching Ford grow increasingly frustrated. 

“Dajan’s terrifying cousin Khrys enlisted him to bodyguard Dajan until she was better. Even though he can't talk, I bet he could get you pointed in the right direction.” Ford had been sleeping off his injuries when Dajan’s relative had come to check on her. But it seemed that everyone except Stan referred to her that way as if it were her proper name. Stan had yet to refer to her at all. 

“Shmebulock the gnome?” asked an incredulous Ford. 

“He's not as dopey as he appears,” insisted Wendy, “and aren't you in a time crunch? Beggars can't be choosers.” 

Dajan’s expression flashed across Ford’s mind’s eye: first the look of hurt resignation on her face when he'd denounced her, and then the look of timorous hope before Eris had taken her off to who knows where. Ford felt something with icy claws clutch in his chest, but ignored it, turning to head out the back door. “You're right, I can't. Thanks.” 

Thankfully it didn't take more than a few minutes of Ford beating at the bushes and calling out “Shmebulock!” in a stage whisper for a gnome to appear. 

It was Steve. “You think we're at your beck and call?” 

“What I think is I have a leaf blower, and a short fuse. Get him here. Now.”

Steve’s eyes widened in remembered horror, and he immediately scampered into the deeper shadows of the forest. Ford sent silent thanks to Mabel for discovering the one thing gnomes feared. 

It was only another moment or two, in which Ford shifted impatiently before the correct gnome was shoved to stumble into the clearing. “Shmebulock,” he said in an accusatory tone. 

“Yes, she's in trouble, and if I'm to be of any assistance to her, I need to find the underground Dark Market before the new moon.” 

“You can understand him?” asked Steve from the safety of a tree. 

“Not as such,” Ford shook his head. “But there is a certain amount of…context involved. Will you help me?”

Once again the gnome spoke his own name. “Payment,” Ford surmised. “I have nothing of supernatural value to offer, but how about… a six foot sub every new moon for 6 months?” 

“Shmebulock!” the gnome held up both hands, wiggling all eight fingers. 

“I'm serious, not stupid. No, not the next hundred years. One year starting with this New Moon.” 

“Shmebulock…!” 

“Extra roast beef?” Ford guessed. The gnome nodded. “Done. 12 six foot subs, extra roast beef, once a new moon for a year. Can we get moving now?” 

“Shmebulock.” The smirk, just short of a sneer, was visible through the beard.

“I'll keep up,” Ford promised, choosing this moment to toss back his little bottle of whatever it was the Love God had left him. “And there’s a leaf blower with your name on it if you double cross me.” The gnome, satisfied and apparently pleased with Ford’s steely eyed determination, took off at a rapid pace, taking Ford at his word that time was of the essence. Ford’s long legs, used to walking and running rugged terrain, easily kept pace with the gnome’s rabbit speed. 

It was a 40 minute dead run past the wreckage of the bunker and its tunnels before they arrived at a pair of trees near the waterfall side of the lake. Shmebulock stepped between them and vanished. Ford followed without hesitation and had to grab for a handhold. On the other side of the illusion was a steep spiral staircase with a fire pole down the center. Once he had his bearings, Ford stepped out and took the pole, forcing the gnome to play catch-up. 

Ford’s boots hit solid ground and he snatched the gnome by the collar from the pole. “Good job, Shmebulock,” Ford said, patting the little man on his shoulder before striding off, eyes darting edgily in every direction. He paused briefly to remember how to call the Fixer. To Ford’s surprise, not two minutes later, he found himself snatched up by the collar, high enough that his feet left the ground. 

Immediately reacting as if to a threat, Ford swung a right hook and connected with nothing. The amused laughter was followed by the voice from the phone, except now it was close. “Not bad. Only missed my face by three feet. Up here, Einstein.”

Ford went still at once rather than strangle on his reinforced turtleneck. “Fixer, I presume,” he said warily. 

“The same.” The Fixer looked human. Mostly. He had the same pointed ears Ford had noticed on Dajan. His hair was vivid red, streaked with silver-white, and he wore it in a braid that fell past his knees. He was also enormous. Funnily enough, despite the booming voice and immense size -- he made Dan Corduroy look like a pencil necked weakling -- he had a boyish face and kind, bright blue eyes. He set Ford back on his feet. “So let's talk. How big is this boat?” 

Ford described the Stan O’War and watched as the Fixer’s face furrowed in unhappy disbelief. “By my girders, it's a miracle you're not at the bottom of the sea. That may work for earth waters but if you're taking on the multiverse, you're gonna need wings. Wheels. And a fridge. Let’s get started.”

“Not just yet. I need… I need a tracking device.. Or… something.” Ford reached up and dragged both hands through his thick silver-streaked hair. “Without that, some way to find Dajan, it could take another 30 years. I don't think her good graces will hold up that long.” I don't want to have to wait that long to see her again. 

“Mm. She's forgiving, Dajan is, but yeah, I dunno that she'd be so after that long. Come on, let's see if we can't find you a gewgaw or some form of doohickery that will help with that.” The Fixer hoisted Ford to sit on one shoulder, so they shared roughly the same point of view. It was a good few minutes of walking through the bizarre bazaar before they found a charm counter The Fixer liked the look of. He set Ford down one more time, then reached into the pocket of his black leather coat. As Ford examined the offerings at the booth, The Fixer pulled out a copper cable the width of Ford’s wrist and took a large bite. 

The knobbly creature behind the counter quailed visibly as The Fixer placidly chewed on his snack. “My friend here needs a cross dimensional tracker for a demi-human who's been kidnapped. What ya got, and don't waste our time.” 

The booth owner scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Need some connection between who’s hiding and who’s seeking. Hair? Ribbon? Buttons, bobs or bows? Tokens of affection? A finger or some toes?” 

Ford began rummaging through his pockets as the knobbly thing spoke, trying to avoid thinking about the sort of creatures who carried fingers and toes around--especially as tokens of affection. 

He came up with the stubs from their movie date, a melted together wad of jellybeans from the same night, a gold plated d2 from the dice he'd given Dajan during her first visit, the fountain pen he'd used to draw Dajan-as-Alexandrerios, and the much-crumpled postcard she'd doodled the Mothman cave on. “Will any of this do?” 

The knobbly proprietor examined the items. “Wait!” The Fixer dropped a flash drive onto the counter. “She got her silly ass up on a parade float and serenaded him with Thomas Dolby in front of the whole town. I got the video feed nice and clean. No noise in the audio.” 

“Ah!” The knobbly creature grinned broadly with far too many teeth. Strangely, its insectile eyes had gone all shiny and dewy with long lashes. “Yoorgi can work with this! Romantic gestures very powerful. But must be certain. Must be sure. Obligation your reason, charm will fail. Guilt? Charm will fail spectacular. Love above all other considerations, charm strong. Will guide you true. But will not come cheap.”. Knobbly fingers also grabbed the fountain pen. 

Ford swallowed hard. “All those emotions… are mixed up in there,” he admitted, one hand going behind his neck. “I know not to lie about this, even if I wanted to. I think that last one is the strongest. I...just don't want to speak that aloud. Not until I say it to her.” 

The Fixer clapped Ford companionably on the shoulder, nearly sending him flying into the booth. “Good answer. We will be back for it in 12 hours, Yoorgi. Get to work.”

“Forgetting something?” Asked Yoorgi, holding out a hairy hand. 

“I can give you a barghest fur jacket,” Ford answered. “I'd have to bring it back from the house. Or one hour of my time every day for a year and a day. Or you can ask me to pay by something I encounter on this miss--quest. ” 

“Yoorgi take 5 one dram vials girl’s tears. Very valuable. Good to stock up.”

“Which girl?” Ford asked. 

“Quest girl best but any girl who cry from sincere feeling will work.” 

“Deal. Five drams of girl tears,” Ford agreed with a wince. Mabel would almost certainly be willing to donate, but he found the idea uncomfortable and disturbing to make her or Dajan cry. Perhaps the terrifying cousin. Cross that bridge when you come to it. Rescue her, beg forgiveness, get home in one piece. The human and the tinkerer sealed the deal with a spit shake. 

“Great. Time’s a-wasting,” said the Fixer jauntily. The copper cable got tucked away into a pocket. “See ya in the am, bright and early. OK, heartsick science dude, let's get this moving. HEY, SHMEBULOCK! you need a ride back?”

“Shmebulock,” called the gnome, appearing out of nowhere to clamber into one of the Fixer’s outside pockets. 

The run back took far less time, and the Fixer was walking at barely more than a quick stroll, commenting all the while about the natural beauty of the area. By the time they returned, the El Diablo was also pulling up. 

“Best! Drive! Ever!” crowed Stan, leaping from the car like Speed Racer. 

“I thought that drive was going to take you overnight.”

“So did I, Sixer, but the dealer was halfway here. Get this. He says I showed up, asked for an upgrade, to have it delivered. And I paid… in cash! Platinum coins!” Stanley tossed his head back and laughed like he'd pulled off the best scam. Only after he was done did he notice the towering figure unhitching the brand new houseboat from the Stanmobile. “Who's Gigantor?”

“How is that possible?” Ford demanded. “This is going to come back and bite us. If it does, so help me, Stanley--” 

“I swear to you on the destroyed portal, Stanford,” Stanley said, shrugging off his cheerful con artist persona. “I didn't do it, I don't know who did it, and --”

Before Stan could finish the sentence, a large sheet of linen paper materialized out of thin air in front of the brothers. As they watched, gold writing that changed font every third or fifth letter began skirling across the page:

Settling up. Screwed up in Russia. Curse slipped past me. So I owed you. 

She's fine. Mostly. Alive and in one piece. Boat’s all yours free and clear. -- E. 

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, trying with all his will to not think about what “mostly” meant when it came to Dajan’s condition. “Eris’ idea of helping. Do you have any idea what chaos it will throw the global economy into by paying for such a big purchase with platinum?”

“Dunno, don't care!” chuckled Stan. “ So anyway, who's the guy unbolting the new Stan O’War and should he not be doing that?”

“Fixer,” the giant introduced himself, “and I should be doing... Whatever I want. Order me six burritos the size of Shmebulock, and stay out of my way. The boat will be multiverse-worthy by sun up. You two are gonna need some rest and to swig your go-go juice first thing when you wake and do it every day.”

“The stuff the Love God gave us?” Ford asked, popping the now empty bottle out of his pocket once again to more closely examine it. 

“It’s got a bunch of different recipes. Your guy probably has one of the purest possible given who he’s related to and how much society is all about blah blah blah love woo-ooo starry eyes and hearts. Long story short, it’s a support potion. Keeps your body operating at peak. Not peak for however old you two relics are, but peak for when you were at your peak.”

“Which is why it’s important not to miss a day. You’ll crash if you do. Like the Hindenburg.” Stan opened his mouth. 

“No, I will not sell you a backup store. My recipe is different and would probably be incompatible with what you’re already taking. Your hearts could explode or your molecules could phase you out of sync and leave you floating like a ghost. Not pretty.”

Stan shut his mouth.

“Now if you will let me work, I gotta get fins on your hull, thopters on your mast, and Yammer engines on your aft. And it ain’t quick as I’d like, as work goes, so leave me alone and do not check on me. Just have Shmeb drop off the food when it gets here. I mean it. No human eyes!”

“Got it. No human eyes.” Stan could generally be counted on to go directly to sleep, except he’d had his hit of the potion today too. He could distract himself with soap operas. Ford would be consumed with curiosity, but could channel that nervous energy into preparing for every supernatural threat he could think of. “You got it, Sixer?”

“Yes. No eyes on the project until sunup.” He handed Shmebulock a wad of cash from a pocket. “I’ll order the food. Leave us a couple burritos on the porch.”


	2. Rebuilding Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford picks up his order. The new Stan O'War launches, and the brothers do a little maintenance on their restored relationship.

The Fixer grunted and disappeared beneath the hull the moment both brothers turned away. Immediately there were impossible construction noises: banging, clanging, and hissing. Ford clenched his teeth on his curiosity but shut the porch door resolutely. “Do not let anyone human go out the back door,” he said to Wendy. “I’m in the lab. Stan and I will probably be up all night. You’re welcome to the attic if you want to stay. If you want to help, come downstairs with me and tell me the name of every mythological creature you haven’t actually met personally or heard one of us tell you about.”

Wendy, who had been reading one of her course books for her EMT certification, looked up. “Okay. I can do that, Professor. Why?”

“We need to have defenses or counters for anything we could meet. And I can't take the chance I might have missed something. Start with the weak ones, work up to the strong ones…”

“I get it, Doc. Hot elf.” 

“What?” 

“Start with hot elf. You know. Legolas. Arwen. Incredibly, really annoyingly beautiful. So beautiful it makes us poor human types all dopey. Or freaked out. Good with arrows. Some are good with magic? Like Terrifying Cousin Khrys?”

“Easy. Mar their beauty. Motor oil. Mud. Battery acid. Or duct tape over their mouths so they can’t speak spells. Bind their hands.” 

Wendy considered that for a minute. “I'd avoid the battery acid. They might forgive motor oil, but not permanent disfigurement. You don't want a magical vendetta. Otherwise, sure; you and Stan can probably manage that between the two of you if Stan doesn’t decide to hit on a hot elf.”

Stanford groaned. That was a distinct possibility. “We can dip his glasses in faerie ointment. I’ve got a recipe for that downstairs. He’ll be able to see spells coming.”

“Faerie fruit,” said Wendy without pause. 

“Faerie food,” Ford corrected. “Anything offered you from anyone fae is a potential trap. Depending on the spell, you can end up stuck on their side of the veil 1 year for as many bites as you’ve taken. Shrewd ones can stick you with a spell that makes it so you’ll never be able to derive enjoyment from anything else, ever, until you starve to death. The Fixer’s got that covered. He’s putting a fridge in the houseboat so we don’t need to accept offers.” 

“Good.” Wendy had slipped into cram mode. “Redcaps.” 

And so it went for hours, moving slowly to the lab as Wendy quizzed Ford on monsters, faeries, and every otherworldly creature she could think of. Ford had counters for most of them, but Wendy’s suggestions were imaginative and got Ford thinking in new directions. 

By sunup, Ford had a stockpile of rowan sticks cut from the woods, ash branches, yew branches, blossoms of yarrow, acorns and oak branches, earplugs made of beeswax. Wendy had long since fallen asleep on the sofa upstairs. “Wendy!” Ford bellowed. “Do we have any mirrored sunglasses of in the gift shop?” 

Wendy blinked herself awake, set the coffee maker going, and shouted down, “Yeah. Four pair, double up where you can. For gorgons, right?”

“Good, good.” Ford was impressed. For all that she seemed not to care, Wendy was proving a valuable help. They’d had a little bit of a heart to heart over the course of the night. Wendy was understanding now that she had a better understanding of the trauma that Ford had gone through at Cipher’s hands, before the portal, during his lost 30 years, and then culminating in Weirdmageddon. But Wendy had apparently bonded with Dajan in the forest while she recovered. Ford realized full well Wendy hadn’t forgiven him, and she expected him to do better. 

Ford came to retrieve the glasses, popping them into a clear plastic hardcase. “Stanley! Sun’s up. I’ve got one stop. Then we must get moving. Fixer?”

The giant rolled out from under Stanley's El Diablo, which was now hitched up to the houseboat. “Car’s in great shape. Hardly needed to tweak it at all. Let's go get your emoticompass.”

“You and the gnome have done more than we could have asked,” Ford said quietly. “Will you look out for the Shack, in case any of our usual suspects tries anything?” 

“I read up on that Weirdmageddon thing. When in doubt, everyone who matters knows the Shack is the safeground. But you can give the redhead my number if it'll help you sleep at night.” By the look on the Fixer’s face, he might be staying anyway. 

“You realize her father is the toughest lumberjack in Oregon,” Ford pointed out, setting out toward the route back to the market. He didn't bother mentioning Dan Corduroy was still dwarfed by the Fixer. 

“Father, lumberjack, right.”. The Fixer’s neck was practically turned around owl wise by the time they were out of sight of the Shack. Ford took his second day’s go-go drink, and held on as Fixer hefted him up and poured on the speed. 

Most of the Underground market was still asleep, but Yoorgi was awake at his booth, kicking his tiny legs. “Remember, five drams of girl tears. We shook hands.”

“I won't renege on you,” Ford said, holding out his hand. 

“Good.” Yoorgi’s eyes flashed bloody red for a moment, then he dropped a velvet box into Ford’s hand about the size of a CD jewel case but three times thicker. 

Ford flipped it open and found inside his talisman on a bed of silk. It was a gold charm of the same six fingered hand symbol Ford used to identify his journals, about the size of a pocket watch. But instead of a number in the center, there was a heart -- purple on one side, red on the other. A lightning strike down the center filled with diamond dust made it a broken heart. It was hanging on a thick gold chain, much like the one Stanley wore. 

“It's good work.” Ford took it out of the box. The case went into a pocket, and he clasped the chain around his neck. 

“Dajan,” Ford whispered, tucking the talisman into his turtleneck. “Hold on. I'm coming.”

“Instructions for activation in box,” the tinkerer advised. “See you when you get back!’ 

Ford straightened, patted the coat pocket and Fixer carried him back to the boat. 

Stan was on deck, seated in one of the two bolted in fishing chairs. In a duffle beside him was his baseball bat. Most of their gear was stowed below decks, but Stan had traded his usual spectacles for the mirror shades. “Captain coming aboard, Captain!” boomed the Fixer. 

With one flick of the Fixer’s wrist, Ford landed on deck in a crouch, then stood to take the wheel. Ordinary displays sat side by side with displays that looked arcane and antiquated. It only took Ford moments to familiarize himself with them. “Splendid work, Fixer.”

“Hell yeah it is. I'll consider the burritos down payment. You can work out the rest later.” The Fixer pulled a magnum size champagne bottle out of the depths of his coat, and raised it overhead. “I dub thee Stan O’War!” He smashed the bottle against the hull, shattering it, then bellowed, “Ford! Pull the levers! And bon voyage!” 

Aboard the newest Stan O’War, two levers’ handles had begun to glow. In order. When Ford pulled the first lever, the hull opened, pulled the Stanmobile inside, and closed again. The second lever fired an incomprehensibly colored beam into the morning sky. The mast opened to a helicopter and the boat lifted off the ground. 

Stan watched all this with a boyish wonder that took twenty years off his grizzled face. The excitement bubbled over and he shouted with increasing fervor, “PINES! PINES! PINES!” into the open air. Soos, Molly and Wendy came running outside in time to see the beam gently open a portal that soon grew large enough to accommodate the brothers’ boat. Ford, exhilarated, joined his brother in shouting their names. One last chant hung in the air once their portal had neatly closed behind them. 

They ended up in the dimension of chartreuse. There was literally nothing for as far as the eye could see in any direction but an unbroken expanse of chartreuse. 

“Seems calm enough here to activate the talisman,” Ford mused as his brother snapped pictures of the unbelievable landscape with his phone. He opened the case and read the spell engraved on the back of the charm:

Following the compass of the heart  
Is not for the easily shaken  
So gather thy courage if you will start  
A quest worth your own heart’s breaking. 

Think of the one who calls to your soul  
Fix their face in your mind  
Swear steady on to seek your goal  
Then speak: To this oath I bind. 

Ford read the instructions three times, and the words didn't do anything shifty like changing. It seemed to carry a reminder of what the talisman maker had already told him, nothing he didn't already know. So with a deep breath, Ford closed his eyes and let the medallion fall against his chest. 

He envisioned every warm memory of Dajan he could call to mind: Her delighted enthusiasm when she'd helped find the Mothman. Her knowing smile when she'd taken Mabel and Dipper to breakfast. That sultry look she had given Ford after swiping cupcake icing off his face. The unabashed amazement on her face the night they'd watched the meteor shower. The dazzled and dreamy expression she'd worn the night he had worked up the courage to kiss her. And to drive home the feeling he'd been trying to avoid admitting, the expression of hope on Dajan’s face just before their last kiss. She wanted him to come for her. “To this oath I bind.”

“ARGH!”

Stanley was on his feet the instant he heard his twin cry out. He sprinted along the deck until he reached the wheelhouse. “Ford!” 

Ford held out his right hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. He was on his knees, bent over with his left hand clutching at his chest. The obvious thought that occurred was that Ford’s heart was finally giving out, but after a moment passed, Ford got to his feet again, panting a little, but obviously no longer in pain. 

“What the hell, man?” Stan gave his brother a shake by the shoulders, then embraced him. “Don't scare me like that.” 

The brothers gave each other warm, tentative smiles. “I'm genuinely sorry. I had no idea that was going to happen.”. 

“What happened?” Stan put his fists on his hips. 

“Heart compass,” Ford explained, still catching his breath. “Designer made it so I can't lose it.” He shrugged out of his coat and peeled off the sweater, revealing the gold chain around his neck, and the talisman no longer on its chain, but turned into an identical tattoo over his heart. Thick, raised scars slashed through the other tattoos of Ford’s youth, putting out the eyes of Bill Cipher where his image had been inked into the skin. 

“Jeez, do you do anything halfway?” 

“Turns out the last thing I did halfway cost me 30 years of my life and my two best friends.” Ford locked his twin’s gaze. “So these days, no. I don't.”

“Ahh, knock it off with the sappy stuff. That thing is not doing whatever a heart compass does. I don't see the kid. I don't see no arrow pointing to her. ”

“True,” Ford allowed, putting his sweater back on. “But this is the last quiet moment we are likely to get for quite some time. We might use it to get you up to speed, and to get that talking out of the way before things start moving quickly.” 

Stan looked away, off into the endless chartreuse. He'd clearly been mulling, ready for this conversation. “Where ta start…? Where it all went wrong, I guess. Pa kicked me out before I could…” 

“... Water under the bridge. With time to think about it I know you wouldn't have sabotaged me. Not intentionally. We never were underhanded with each other. Even though you ribbed me about my brains, you always stood up for me. I was just crushed and I sided with Pa. I let it make me hold a grudge.”

“If you'd been beside me, the whole thing with the portal might never have happened. I was alone, isolated, and feeling like I owed the world something to prove I was more than a polydactyl with genius IQ. It made me vulnerable in a way I couldn't have foreseen. you would've seen Cipher for what he was.”

“And I owe you thanks for spending 30 years trying to bring me home.”

Stan looked away, uncomfortable. “Only made sense. You were always the one Pa liked. The smart one. If one of us had to be here it shoulda been you.” Ford clasped his twin’s shoulder. Hard. 

“That's the thing, Stanley. You weren't the dumb twin. You rebuilt the portal from wreckage and it worked! You were never the dumb twin. You studied! You put your mind to it without Pa’s voice telling you you couldn't. 

“I wasn't the smart one. I was just the one Pa encouraged. We were both “the money maker, the meal ticket”. Our father had a warped view that Shermie was lucky enough to avoid. Growing up, we had no choice but to live with it. And what it did to us. Now? We've had time apart, which I only made worse. We've fought each other and we've fought for the Falls.”

“Any more fighting, we're going to take down a common enemy,” Stan finished the sentence. 

“Just so. Pines forever?” 

“Us against the world.”

They clasped hands and filled the chartreuse nothingness with the “Pines!” chant until they both collapsed laughing to the deck. 

There was no real way of charting time in the chartreuse dimension, but once they'd gotten the tension behind them, they toasted with their go-go potions and set to discussing strategies for the dimensions they expected to encounter...and the denizens they expected to meet. 

“Ungh!” Ford clutched at his chest again. 

Stan rumbled in his throat. “That I'm not gonna get used to.” 

“It means we’re coming into alignment with another dimension that might lead us to Dajan.” 

“Then hit the beam, and let's do this, before watching that thing go off gives me a heart attack!” 

Ford turned in slow circles until the medallion popped out of his chest and strained through his sweater, making him look like a lovestruck cartoon character. “Bring us about, Captain Stan.” 

“Aye-aye, Captain Ford.” 

The destabilizer pulled open another portal. It was jarring after some hours of all chartreuse, but the brothers’ eyes soon adjusted. It looked a lot like earth they knew, but something felt different.


	3. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grunkles visit a universe where Weirdmageddon didn't work out happily. And a neighboring universe where they meet alternates of their niblings. But will it get them any closer to their damsel in distress?

What was different became apparent as they made their way down. Gravity Falls in this dimension was in a crater with the Mystery Shack on one side and the Northwest mansion on the other. Signs of destruction littered the bits of the town that were still standing. All the rest were wreckage. Familiar wreckage. 

The dashboard lit up, putting a weapons alert on screen. A warning shot zinged past their bow, causing the twins to drop to the deck. 

Stan got on the radio and hailed the Shack. 

“Our Stan Pines is dead.” The voice was Soos’ but there was no childlike joy in it. “So’s our Ford. ” Below, the Shack had turrets sticking out of its roof. 

The twins exchanged a glance. “What happened?” 

“Weirdmageddon. They sacrificed themselves to blow Cipher back where he came from. We know about the multiverse. Turn around, dudes. You're not welcome here.”

“We only need a moment,” Ford spoke quickly. “We’re looking for a girl. Five foot nine. Brown skin. Auburn hair. Pointed ears--” 

“Wendy here. Oh, yeah, I remember her. She and Ford had a thing until Bill turned her to glass and smashed her with a croquet mallet. Ford was never the same after that. Within a month, Ford came up with the plan to blow him back where he came from. Stan said ‘not without me’. So it's just me and Soos and the Shacktron now. ” 

Ford paled and gulped. So did Stan. “We’re trying to find ours. She's in trouble. Our tracer says she came through here.” 

“You're a couple of sad memories here, guys. And Ford’s lady wasn't one of us. I'll give you an hour to look around, then you gotta go.” 

“Should be enough,” Ford replied, hand over his talisman, which was no longer straining but throbbing along to the beat of his heart. 

The brothers dropped the ladder and slid down to ground level. Wendy looked much as she did in their world, but this Soos was joyless and thin, nothing like the jovial manchild they knew. “In exchange for the safe passage, here. Let me make a few adjustments to assist with defense. I’ll be a moment.” When the pair did not object, Stan keyed in the combination to get behind the snack machine. Together, the brothers moved like a finely tuned machine, Stan searching for anything that might help their mission, and Ford working quickly to reinforce the power source and foundation of the impossible mecha they'd turned the house into. 

“Dipper and Mabel?” asked Stan from the door as Ford returned from below with his double’s traveling bag. 

“Home safe in California,” Wendy said, smiling faintly as both men gusted sighs of relief. “Thanks for the help. We’ll rebuild. Go find your fiancée. Good luck.” Ford did a double take. Stanley simply handed over the thing he’d found: two wedding bands and a curlicue of glass that had once been one of Dajan’s curls. Ford, blank faced, simply nodded and put them in the case the talisman had come in. It was enough. The trinket tore free of his flesh again and pointed toward their next destination. 

The destabilizer had barely used its charge, so they were ready to go immediately. 

The universe they ended up in this time triggered the non breathable atmosphere alert, and the brothers responded by sealing up the wheelhouse, which Fixer had put an airlock on. They glided their boat through a system of planets which looked cracked and devastated from a distance, but were in the first stages of recovery once viewed closer. There had obviously been some manner of interplanetary cataclysm here. The brothers held somber silence until they ran across a sign boasting food and fuel. Following it led to a tiny, habitable planet that seemed to serve as fuel station and convenience store. 

A green and turquoise bubble ship was parked out front. Relieved to see signs of life, the twins parked their boat. This planet had breathable atmosphere. They tentatively walked inside the only building visible. What greeted them was a convenience store much like the ones found in their home dimension. At the cashier was a bored, blue, teen alien. The line contained aliens of various shapes and sizes. At the cold drinks section, two kids in familiar outfits were inspecting the Thunder Blazz. 

“Dipper? Mabel?” Ford ventured. 

“Close,” replied a small green alien who looked a lot like Mabel--uncannily so, ignoring the antennae and coloration. “I'm Mavis and this is Skipper.” 

Her brother turned to greet them and stopped in his tracks. “Humans. Humans who look like uncle Staniel!” 

“We’re just passing through,” Ford explained, opening his phone and flipping through the photos until he found one Mabel had texted from their “dream date dinner” of Dajan holding the bouquet Ford had given her. “Looking for her.”

“Oh, her!” Mavis brightened immediately. “Lord Hater has her, last any of us saw.” 

“… where do I find this Lord Hater?” Ford had been around for the original Star Wars film. The name’s similarity to the villain of that film wasn't lost on him. This made no difference, not even when the kids displayed a hologram of Dajan and Eris beamed from aboard the Skullship. 

Ford found himself audibly grinding his teeth as he watched the skeletal creature calling itself Hater made attempt after awkward attempt to woo an obviously disinterested and mildly uncomfortable Dajan. Skipper took one look up at Ford’s face, and cut the hologram. 

“We can take you to the last known coordinates. Or check the leader board,” Mavis was already walking to the door before her brother stopped her. 

“No need,” said the bored teen cashier, joining the conversation now that the line was gone. “Galactic news says he had her for an hour, but the little orange guy set her free. She escaped in an Orbble through the Door only a little while ago.” 

“We can take you to the Door,” Mavis said, disappointed. “I've always wanted to see the inside of the Skullship.”

“Maybe after we’re done with our mission, we’ll come back and take you through it, sweetie,” Stanley said with a crooked smile. He reached to pat her on the head, but there were antennae. 

“Promise?”

“Well, something fun. We promise,” Ford allowed. Mabel’s irresistible cuteness apparently still held true when she wasn't even human. An idea struck. “Mavis… Where I come from, my niece is named Mabel, and you two would be great friends. She'd never forgive me if I didn't ask: do you want to help me get my happy ending?”

Mavis gasped, hands going to her chubby green cheeks. 

Skipper facepalmed. 

“Being part of somebody's fairy tale and helping the questing hero find his princess? Grop, almost any girl my age you meet will be on board!” 

Ford looked uncomfortable despite the idea. “I owe payment to an artificer in the form of girls’ tears. Could you spare some? If I find Dajan and bring her back but don't have payment…” Ford trailed off. The expression on his face indicated that he hadn't seriously considered the consequences of failing Yoorgi until this moment. 

“What'd he make you?” Skipper asked, curiously. 

Ford pulled out the finder medallion. The lightning crack was still there, but the purple was diminishing, filling with red the more worlds they hopped. That they had managed to hit a universe in which Dajan had briefly appeared had a big effect: the red overtook the purple as they watched. The twins oohed and aahed. 

“Say no more!” Mavis went to the storage section of the store, found a short plastiglass container with a lid. “Come back this way on your way back, and I'll have ‘em for you. The idea of you getting your lost sweetheart back only to get turned into a tree or something is enough to make any romantic cry!” 

Ford shuddered, but did not mention he already had similar experience. He simply smiled gratefully at the little girl who so readily embraced his admittedly far-fetched story. 

“Thanks, pumpkin,” Stan said, kissing the top of Mavis’ head. “we both appreciate it.”

Ford repeated the gesture. “More than we can say.”

“Just tell me the story when it's all over, and I'll consider us all even!” 

Stan, who had stood by for most of the conversation, paid for his armfuls of Thunder Blazz, delighted it was surprisingly cheap. “This'll make great sales at the Shack with a 300% markup.” 

“Go get ‘em, Grunkles,” called Mavis, waving as the pair boarded their boat. 

“Coordinates to the Door sent!” Skipper shouted, waving his communicator.   
In an amazing act of generosity, Stan tossed the twins a pineapple Popsicle each. Then they turned about, opened the solar sails, and set course for the Door.


	4. On the Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't really trust a god of Chaos with matters of the heart or to keep promises to the spirit. Good thing the Pines brothers are getting closer.

Dajan and Eris had to do a lot of world hopping to stay ahead of various pursuers. Fortunately, the chaos entity kept track of which worlds kept their powers juiced, though that made for a roundabout route to their promised safe haven. After the mishap in Russia, Eris kept closer tabs on their power level. 

“I'm really sorry about Russia.”

Dajan ran beside Eris, stumbled, fell. She glowered daggers, but didn't say anything aloud. It had been Eris’ third apology, but none of them were ringing terribly sincere. They enjoyed the chaos and the power boost they got out of it, and weren't particularly concerned about Dajan’s wellbeing. 

“Come on! It's not even that bad a curse as curses go!” 

“Yeah?” Dajan snapped. “Then break it.” 

“You want a safe place to be rescued from, or you want the curse broken? I got enough juice for one, Dajan. One. Take your pick.”

Dajan sighed. “Are you sure he’s even coming?” She shut her eyes, tight. “Can I even afford this hope, or is this just another trick for your amusement while us mortals run in circles?”

“I made a promise to help, mortal,” Eris said through clenched teeth. “This dramedy you and the science guy have going on is doing some wonderful shaking up of the order. Good stuff. You can count on me to help as long as you're keeping me strong.”

It was not lost on Dajan that her question had been sidestepped. “How many worlds before we get to the Crystal Kingdom?” 

“Three? Maybe?” 

“If we’re not quick, you'll have to carry me. I am having trouble feeling my legs.”

“Oh, just fabulous.” 

“Well, I'm sorry! I didn't have enough time to recharge my magic, so I couldn't put up a defense, could I?” 

The chaos entity looked abashed. “I was high on my own hype. I should have looked after you better.” Eris hoisted Dajan onto their shoulders. “Hold on. I can maybe skip us straight to the Crystal King. But you gotta use that voice again.”

The air became filled with off key notes, like the universe was strumming an out of tune ukulele, and Dajan hissed in pain. “I'll try.” 

“Sing or scream, sweetheart. I just need a little boost.” 

“Scream? No problem.” Dajan paused, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and -- screamed. Long, loud, and without words. The noise was similar to the shriek she had let fly in the bunker, but different. Worse -- shrill and dissonant, thinning the veils between worlds with jagged sharp ululation going from Alto into something disturbingly beyond Soprano. 

They were in one of the between spaces, thanks to the Door, and it gave just enough of a boost to Eris to yank open the portal to the center of the earth in the right dimension. They pulled it shut after, cutting Dajan’s cry off in the space behind them. 

The Crystal Kingdom was blue like ice, white like snow, and it constantly shimmered and corruscated in the colors of the spectrum like a prism. Dajan paused, hand at her throat, mouth bloody, and gaped. This won't be such a bad place to wait. Having used up the little magic she'd had to recharge, she fell slumped over Eris’ shoulder, hanging like a limp linen. 

“Lovely,” sighed Eris. “Medic? Magic crystal medic?” 

 

Meanwhile, the Door had led the brothers Pines on the opposite of a merry chase. After spending some indeterminate time in a plain featureless white dimension, the Door had opened again. 

They were dolphins in a dimension of Orca. 

Then they ran into a mage who flung balls of black magic at them. First they were frogs, who simply kept hopping and croaking what would have been their battle cry. Another flash of magic and they were mice. The quantum destabilizer hit the next spell and they were human again. Ford’s left cross and Stan’s elbow drop hit simultaneously. Down went the bearded wizard. Ford, taking no chances, stabbed the mage with a rowan wand through each wrist. Dajan had not been in this dimension but the wizard was nasty enough to impede the brothers for his own amusement. 

Then they ran into a dimension wherein they found themselves under attack by figurines of all shapes and sizes. Stan whooped with sheer glee, letting loose with brass knuckles, bat, and shoes. Ford’s approach was to whip them out of his path with his upgraded magnet gun. The animus behind the figurines had declared he'd fight to the death anyone who came looking for the songstress. Both brothers nodded in agreement and spoke in one unshakable voice. “Terms accepted.” but the animus yielded without it coming to that once he realized they'd called his bluff. 

The talisman pointed them toward another rift, and Dajan’s scream still echoed through it, almost sending them off course as the instrument panel went haywire. 

“That's her. That’s Dajan!” Ford gritted his teeth against the brain jangling wail and pushed the throttle to full, forcing the boat forward against the wave of dissonance. The sound rattled their bones, and everything went dark.


	5. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford, Dajan and Stan are all in one place. A brief respite from the intense.

When they awakened, the brothers found their boat moored in a port on clear water, surrounded by a crystal cavern lit by natural lichen and starlight. Stan awakened first then shook Ford hard. “Hey, Sixer? I think we're at what Dipper would call the boss level.”

Ford gasped, winced, and pulled out the medallion again. The heart was completely red on both sides now, though the break remained. “No. This one is supposed to be a friendly. Just guarding her until we get to her.”

“Just so,” said a voice from below. “Perle Korgan welcomes you. Dajan is in the conservatory.”

“Show my brother around. Give the king my thanks. Take me to the conservatory.” Ford said to the crystal figure with floating cyan hair as he slid down the ladder to the ground like a man half his age. “How long has it been for her? Can you tell me?” 

“Six months of your time, give or take a day,” explained the guide, leading Ford to the doors. We thought we were right behind her. They opened, rather than the sound of the dissonant scream, to sweet harp music and Dajan’s singing. 

What he saw, though, was something unexpected. 

Dajan was singing something ethereal and sweet; pleasantly resonant. She didn't seem aware of her surroundings though. From the hips down, she was an ornately carved, wooden, silver-stringed floor harp playing her own accompaniment. Her body was melded, flesh to wood. The parts of her that were still flesh were garbed in white silks. 

Ford’s breath caught in his throat as the thoughts ‘she’s alive’ and ‘she’s a musical instrument’ collided in his head. The former thought won, and he climbed the crystal hewn steps to the upper level. As if to put a spotlight on her, the cavern’s skylight was directly overhead. 

Ford barely felt the steps beneath his feet. The days of potion drinking were keeping him at top performance and he felt 30 years younger. He had never been so grateful for being indefatigable than this moment. Finally reaching the floor, only steps separated them. 

Dajan finished the song and blinked, coming back to herself. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, and called out, “... Any other requests?” 

“Could… Could you sing that one you sang for me again?” Ford could barely manage to speak above a whisper. 

“I'm sorry, you'll need to be more specific,” Dajan began tiredly, opening her eyes. The tentative, smiling face of Stanford Pines filled her vision. “Ford…! You… You came for me.”

“I...have a great deal to make up for,” Ford whispered, stepping closer now that Dajan recognized him without rejecting him. “Will you give me the chance?”

Dajan’s eyes welled, and Ford felt the urge to wipe the tears from her face, but he forced himself to remain still. 

“Even… Like this?” Dajan swept her arms to indicate her current condition. 

“If I hadn't overreacted, you would never have ended up in this situation. I'm so incredibly sorry.” This time he did step forward to stroke her face with his thumbs. “I understand now why you were afraid to tell me. I didn't give you a reason to feel safe sharing your secrets, given what I'd told you of my own.”

“... And I couldn't help how I feel about you,” Dajan whispered, voice shaky. She closed her eyes as Ford touched her face. 

Ford closed his own eyes against a surge of gratitude. She said feel. Present tense. “I can't seem to help how I feel about you either. To be honest, I should have given in long before the parade. I could fall hopelessly in love with you. I may already be. ”

Dajan simply gave him a radiant smile, at a loss for words. 

“We’re together again. We’ll find a way to reverse the transformation. I won't rest until you're… You're you again.”

“You two decent?” Stan had stage whispered but the acoustics carried it to them as if he'd spoken in a conversational tone. 

“Stan! You came too!”

“‘Course I did. Somebody had to keep Ford out of trouble. And think of all the weird crap I can bring back for the Shack.” It took Stan and his crystalline guide (this one with magenta curls) a moment to walk into view. Stan stopped and stared. “New look for ya, Kid.” The smile was an affectionate smirk, but it didn't quite reach Stan’s eyes. “Now what, brainiac?” 

“Now we thank the PerleKorgen for giving Dajan a safe place to wait for us. We go see Mavis. Then we find a curse breaker.”

Thanking the King turned out to be a much more complicated process than Ford had expected. There were feasts. Stan, enjoying the chance to eat like a king, made the most of the meals and the attention of the crystalline women, who found all the humans fascinating. Ford and Dajan were present in the loosest possible terms, mostly talking softly with their heads close together at the table. 

The six months for Dajan had been mostly singing, and the crystal caverns comprising the kingdom carrying the resonance all over. This had increased the morale of the entire cavern dwelling population. In return, they had fed, clothed and cared for Dajan as a welcomed guest, even as the curse slowly encroached on her body. She promised to visit or send recordings in thanks for the sanctuary and hospitality. 

The crystal folk insisted on hearing about the details of the Stans’ trip so far as well. On hearing the price exacted for Ford’s seeker medallion and the price for its creation and use, several of the crystal women donated their tiny jeweled tears. 

Stan was near tears himself when it turned out they were willing to donate to his cache of “weird stuff to take back to the Shack”. By the time they'd finished the third day of celebrating, he had piles of crystals and geodes in colors that didn't exist on earth. Not to mention some of the clothing and jewelry the crystal citizens wore. 

It was a new definition of the word “awkward” to get Dajan aboard the boat and strapped in without hurting or damaging the harp part of her. Regretfully shoving off from the port of the crystal kingdom, they fired the destabilizing beam for the coordinates that would return them to the universe where the brothers met Mavis and Skipper. 

It was only a few hours of waiting with their beacon on -- during which Stan bought more Thunder Blazz and treated Dajan to a bottle to keep her spirits up -- until the alternate niblings showed up. 

“Oh, is this her?” Mavis leapt aboard. Her brother made sure they were tethered before following.

“I'm a her?” Dajan asked, fingertipping the audible quotes. 

“Well, we asked for help finding you, and ended up telling the story to these two,” Ford explained. “You're the ‘her’ I was trying to get back. 

“But your suitor in this dimension broadcast his attempt to seduce you Galaxy wide,” Stan finished, wincing. “By the time we saw it, you'd already managed to get yourself free and run for it. We put priority on catching up with you rather than disabling the broadcast.” 

“He's a softy,” Mavis said conspiratorily as Dajan permitted the child to braid her hair. “Terrible luck with girls but not vengeful. Just pretends it never happened. So you won't have to worry about him coming after you.” 

Dajan looked from the elder twins, to the younger. “That's a relief,” she sighed. “It'd be just a pain if we had to avoid this dimension. I wanna visit Phunulon when this is fixed. Can't get my roller coaster on in this condition.” 

“We did promise the kids we'd do something fun before we went home,” Stanley recalled. “That is if Mavis here kept her end.” 

“You bet I did!” the little green child piped. “I cried for the story every night before bed!” she handed over a small bottle about a cubic inch in size. It was close to full. “Weeks of tears!” 

The brothers beamed grateful smiles at her. Dajan’s joy and appreciation flowed off her as music from her harpstrings. “Thank you, Mavis. You've made it so we can be together soon as we break this curse.” 

“Some curses break with true love’s kiss,” Mavis suggested eagerly. 

Ford blushed straight to the tops of his not inconsiderable ears. Mavis squealed. “You tried that?” 

“It was a spite curse, so I don't think true love works no matter how many kisses we give each other,” Dajan explained, stretching her torso to bestow a quick kiss on Ford’s lips. Ford half lidded his eyes and smiled dreamily. 

Skipper and Stan groaned together, then clinked their bottles of Thunder Blazz. 

“I want to protest all this downtime, but maybe a little diversion will fire up the idea neurons,” Ford said thoughtfully as he turned away from his brother’s teasing face-making. 

The Stan O’War 3 crew, now 3, spent the next few minutes communicating with Mavis and Skipper’s family, making sure it was okay to take them for a spin to Phunulon, the amusement world. 

“Are you certain you are okay with this?” Ford asked, one last time as they made their final approach to the amusement park world. 

“I'm fine,” Dajan insisted. “go have fun. I'll read your journals and see if anything sounds… Y’know, curse-breaking. We can always come back when I have legs. Now seriously, go have a good time.”

Ford suspected Dajan was putting up a brave front, but he didn't want to risk insulting her by pointing it out. They shared a tight embrace before he and his brother left her in the high security parking area. 

Dajan was putting on a brave front, but refused to give into the fear that had gripped her since her legs had stopped working. Determined to distract herself, she plucked journal 1 out of the cabinet Ford had them and began reading. 

By the time the brothers returned with sleeping Mavis and Skipper in their arms, Dajan too had fallen asleep. She had managed to wedge the harp part of her into a nook between some cabinets, allowing her to rest her top half on the countertop of the galley. She was using the journals for a pillow; yellow note paper sticking out of the pages of the third journal. 

Ford smiled down at her, stroked a hand through her hair affectionately, then tucked the younger twins in as Stanley put in the route to take their alternate niblings home.


	6. Dajan Comes Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dajan promised Stan an explanation of her particular weirdness, and gives it...along with some of the frustration of her predicament.

Dajan awoke to Ford beside her, busily working on another entry in his third journal. He had managed to get it out from under her head without waking her. She ducked her head to cover her yawn, then murmured “good morning?” in the smallest whisper, so as not to startle the man. 

Ford didn't startle. He did reach up and strum his fingers across the strings behind her, eliciting a handful of random notes. Dajan’s eyes widened and she found herself blushing. Whatever it was she'd planned to say next went right out of her head. 

“Are you all right?” Ford asked, immediately concerned by her reaction. 

“Y-yes,” Dajan managed after an attempt or two. No one had touched her strings as the curse set in. She had not expected to feel anything through them. “You guys have fun at the thing?” 

“It was fine. The children feel our debt settled. We’re headed home to pay the guy who helped me find you. Then we’ll gear up again and set off to find the one who cursed you. We’ll make him remove it.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan,” Dajan beamed. “Not that being a harp is the worst thing, but I miss the independence.”

“I prefer you the way you were when I found you,” Ford reached to brush her hair out of her face, leaning in. 

The kiss was brief, lest Stanley show up to tease them. 

“Hey you two,” as if on cue, Stanley came from above decks. “We’re back. You know, home.”

“Hi, Stan. Why don't you come sit and I'll tell you that story I promised. It’s about time, right?” 

Stanley quirked half a smile. “Feelin’ antsy about showing off the new chassis, huh? I guess I can get that. Too bad I won't have the debt to hold over ya.”

“What? Debts?” Ford glanced between Dajan and Stanley. 

“Yeah, brainiac,” Stan grinned, patting Ford on the shoulder, hard. “Remember I told you how strong the kid is? She said there's an explanation for that. She promised me that story.”

“When was thi--” Ford began but on seeing his two companions suddenly with uncomfortable expressions, fell silent in understanding. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh. Have I asked you for forgiveness yet?”

“Yes. And it has been given, I promise,” Dajan assured Ford, taking his hand. Now about that story…”

Ford glanced at his talisman. The heart was red all the way through now, but the break remained. Dajan might be sincere in her forgiveness, but whatever magic powered the thing that led him to her was apparently still not satisfied. Not yet. 

“I'm kind of a changeling,” Dajan shrugged. “Hence my chilled out reaction to weirdness, the strength, and the shape-shifting.”

“Part faerie, or human stolen by the faerie. Okay. Go on.” Ford and Dajan whirled to stare at Stan. “What? I spent 30 years in Gravity Falls, and I paid attention to the lesson during chartreuse. I'm not the dumb twin!” He grinned proudly at their expressions. 

Dajan grinned back, then continued. “Well, a lot of the stuff in the faerie tales is right. A lot is mixed up or way wrong. But the parts about us stealing humans aren't quite entirely accurate. Sometimes one of us and one of them fall in love. Nature takes its course.”

“You end up with half faerie kids who are close enough, but if they don't fall in love with one of their own variety of fae, you get a kid two thirds two different types of fae. And the combos get more complicated from there if more humans get involved. I… ended up a, well, a party mix. Half human, and a randomly changing mix of fae, because all the different types don't get along in a bloodstream any more than they do in person.

“Because of that, we’re not sure exactly what my lineage is. I know the strength comes from a troll a few gens back. The singing comes from a meremenn -- what most call mermaids or Sirens -- and the screaming a Banshee. No idea where the hair comes from and there are a few possibilities that could explain the night vision and the shape-shifting. There may be a touch of brownie in there somewhere, explaining my cooking. ”

“Most people with my…condition either stay in faerie and pick a fae race to live as. The ones who don't? They often lose their minds as the blood struggle gets worse. I was lucky. My genuine blood family…” Dajan paused and took a breath, ”decided I was too much trouble to care for. So you know. Basket. Note. ‘Please take care of our Dajan’. You knew about the orphanage. That's where I met the family. They could tell right away what I was, and worked a spell to stabilize me.”

“As I grew into my own magic, it'd feed the spell and keep me looking mostly human. So I grew up resigned to the fact that I was going to be a fae with magic I had to be really careful about using. I didn't even find out I was part pixie until the night Ford kissed me!” 

“So that's why you shrunk. You'd depleted your personal supply of magic and your body took a size that would conserve what was left,” Ford reasoned. “That sound, the shape-shifting. You did all that.”

“More or less on the nose. Siren song can make people forget their senses. Banshee’s cry is fear, sorrow. I made him forget what he was, too freaked out to think about it, then started a fire. Smelled worse than ogre sweat. But pretty sure it worked. “

“To save your paranoid, ungrateful ass,” Stan laughed, but only briefly. “And my overconfident one. You owed me the story, but I owe you my thanks too. I've only had Ford back a year. We still had stuff to work out. I sure as hell wasn't ready to lose him again.”

“So… We cool?” Dajan asked, looking between the brothers. “I mean, now that you know…um...the truth?”

“We have no room to talk,” Stan confessed. “I occasionally meet up with a lady who’s not what she seems.” Even though he laughed, he shuddered. 

“We’ve both had women try to make meals of us. Cipher once sent a siren after me once I realized what he really was. Barely escaped with my life.” Ford gave a rueful little smile. “You… Your sacrifice… left you without defense. I…”

“Shush. Ford, you were dealing with more than you were prepared to cope with. And it's not like I’ve got major mojo. I wouldn't have had enough to stop this curse anyway. “

“Still…” Ford began before Dajan and his brother both gently said, “Don't.” Ford cleared his throat and looked away. 

“The dude who flung it also was on a major ley line, so he prolly couldn't have otherwise. He was a cheater. So it doesn't count.”. Dajan’s strings thrummed uneasily. “So… We’re cool?” 

“Cool by me. I told him weird girls like us. At least you're a fun kinda weird.” 

Ford had already set aside the journal. As he took Dajan’s hand she brightened with relief. “I'll take that as a yes. Good.” 

Both brothers lit up smiles that made them look… Really young. Dajan frowned slightly, but figured it was a trick of the light. “Okay, let's go show the kids my new look.” 

Soon as Wendy saw the ship return, she video called the twins. Luckily, they'd returned early on a Friday evening. The time difference had been small this time. Including the stop on Phunulon they had been gone almost a month. 

There was a tearful reunion on the phone. Each grunkle had won a stuffed toy for the younger twin they were most similar to. Ford ordered his payment for Shmebulock on the land line while Mabel peppered Dajan with questions. Dajan patiently answered most of them. Wendy was attentive and quiet but almost as curious as the younger girl. 

Soos was thrilled with all the multiversal tchotchkes Stan had showed up carrying. 

Dipper was quiet on the phone until Mabel asked if Dajan had received Dipper’s apology package. Soos brought the brown paper package to her, and she promised Dipper she'd open it in quiet solitude. 

Dajan took as agreeably as she might everyone’s fascination with her current condition. She posed for a few photos, insisting that some other face or a mask get photoshopped over her true features. Soos solemnly swore he'd make sure her face was lost to the sands of time. Thankfully, no one asked to play her. 

Finally, after the call had gone for over two hours, Ford called an end to the conference. They still had the curse to break and only the vaguest idea where to start. He also had two six foot subs to deliver. 

“Then let's do this,” Stan said. “The kid can use a meal, since we finished all the grub on the boat. And it's not like she can go with you. We’ll keep her company.” 

Dajan opened her mouth to protest but shut it again. “Sounds like a plan,” she sighed, leaning on the back of Stan’s favorite chair. 

Wendy frowned thoughtfully. “I think being a piece of furniture has Dajan feeling a little stir crazy. No way you can take her with you?” 

“No way I can shapeshift. Not while I've got a bunch of hostile intrusive spellwork insisting I'm nothing more than a freaking Alexa!” 

Dajan cringed at the sound of her own frustration. “Sorry, you guys, this is only kinda terrifying when I let myself stop to think about it.” She tried for a brave smile but it came out shaky. “And I have to think, because the spell is always trying to erase me.” 

Stan stood up, aghast. Ford looked a little sick, then a lot angry. It was a few seconds of him visibly working to control his emotions before he trusted himself to speak. “Dajan,” he said gently, long legs closing the distance to her side. “Why didn't you say something sooner?” 

“It comes and goes,” Dajan shrugged. “It wasn't bad at first. But the longer it goes, the worse it pulls. The more I have to fight it… But the less I have left to fight with. The human half is stubborn but not made to handle magic. Not much of my magic is made for fighting.” 

“But you can fly by the seat of yer pants like nobody's business, kid,” Stanley reminded her. “You shed your skin and blew your own cover for two guys you've known for 3 weeks. Because you up and decided we matter to you. Kid? The feeling’s mutual. What do we gotta do to get you through this?” 

Ford watched his brother and wrapped his arms around Dajan. “Looks like you charmed your way into more hearts than just mine.” 

Soos reached out a hand and put it on Dajan’s right shoulder. “This worked during Weirdmageddon and in every anime I've ever seen.” Wendy stepped up and added her hand. Stan looked dubious but closed the circle by moving opposite his brother and wrapping her in a two Pines hug. 

The awkward, if sincere moment drew out before Soos spoke again with quiet certainty in his voice. “Just focus on sharing a little of your strength with her, so she can last a while longer.” 

There was no glow, no twinkle or shimmer of magic, but it worked. The family who had come to consider strange a normal part of their lives, managed to collect their love, affection and protective feeling towards Dajan into something that gave them all enough strength together to push back against the sinister magic. 

Dajan looked like she'd run a 440 by the time they all let go. Her normal cloud bank of curls was limp with sweat, but she whispered, “it’s manageable. I… can breathe again.” 

“Soos, get Daj some towels, and a bowl of cereal. I'm gonna bring Shmeb his payment. Professor? Get moving. I don't know if that trick will work twice.” 

Ford didn't have to be told twice. He gave Dajan a quick, fierce kiss, then turned and hit the back door at speed, leaving it swinging.


	7. Drastic Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With another time limit hanging over the head the Pines Family turns to one of the biggest guns they have, supernaturally speaking.

A short while later found Ford at the booth where he'd obtained the heart compass. Yoorgi was examining the payment. “Almost 5 dram innocent little girl tears. Another five sympathetic lady tears. Better than promised. Yoorgi well pleased. We do business again.”

“I was hoping you'd feel that way. What do you have in the way of curse removal?”

Yoorgi audibly blinked. Ford pulled out the talisman. The crack in it was still there. “It's interfering with your work.”

Yoorgi frowned. “Serious curse. Sinister magic.”

“I know the source of the curse. Russia,” Ford placed his hands flat on the counter. “Can you at least get me within 5 miles of the sorcerer? I can do the rest. With my bare hands if I need to.”

“What you have already should do. It will detect what prevents it from getting to its perfect state.”

Ford scowled. “The curse was cast using a ley line. Any helpful suggestions? “

“Most likely need a ley line to remove curse.” Yoorgi shrugged.” start looking for one. Same one… Chance of success eh, so-so. Clean one, chance better. “

Ford nodded his thanks and headed back to the Shack, angry and dejected. 

By the time he made it back, Stanley was leafing through one of Mabel's scrapbooks, showing Dajan the antics Dipper and Mabel got into their first summer in the Falls. “You let this Gideon kid glue you to a lawn chair?!”

“He was a crafty little punk then! He got lucky!” Stan protested, but he was laughing. 

“Likely Stanley only lulled him into a false sense of security to strike later,” Ford suggested with a wry smile. 

“It went just like that, yeah,” Stan agreed. “So how'd it go?” 

“We’re going to Russia.” Ford sank into the other easy chair. 

“Oh! Fun!” Dajan attempted an eager note, but no one was buying it. “Okay, this will likely be no fun at all. But we're doing it anyway. So what's the plan? I've never been to Russia.”

“So we have to go to Russia. Smuggle the kid here in case the mumbo jumbo needs her present to reverse it… but I got Ford banned from airplanes. And they'd shoot the Stan O’War right out of the sky… ” Stanley stood and began pacing thoughtfully, frowning and scratching his chin. “We could tell customs she's a rare art piece on loan from--”

“Dudes,” Soos poked his head in from the kitchen, interrupting. “wouldn't it be easier to hit the weird web? You said the video went viral among the supernatural, right?” 

“We’re not stirring that up again,” Dajan said icily, discordant notes vibrating off her strings. “No way. Eris! Eris I know you can hear us!”

Eris was simply there between one moment and the next. No weather; no special effects. They were either low in power or conserving what they had, but they were just as congenial as always. “Who do you think you're yelling at.” 

“She yelled for you. But we could work up to yelling at you,” Stanley turned toward the chaos entity. Ford did the same. They reached up simultaneously to straighten their glasses,standing shoulder to shoulder between Eris and Dajan. 

“Not satisfied with the state of the art houseboat? Humans. I can take it back, you know.” 

“She's gonna die, dude,” Soos said quietly, causing the Pines twins to freeze, and Eris to stare with saucer eyes. 

“What did you think would happen when the curse runs its course?” Ford asked, jaw clenched. 

“I hadn't looked that closely. I didn't want to.” Eris now took a long look at Dajan, and frowned. “I haven't got close to enough to take off a curse of that intensity. But okay, dead is not the fun kind of chaos, and having the epicenter of weirdness here all in mourning? No. What do you need?”

“Can you put us in contact with the one who cast the curse? Give us a fighting chance?” Ford was keeping his tone polite with an effort. There was no way of telling the entity's current power level. 

Eris held up one finger. Their eyes rolled up into their head for 30 seconds before returning to look around the room. “Sorry, he's dead.”

“Dead? Shouldn't the curse have broken?” quavered Dajan. 

“He powered it up from a ley line, so it was extra juiced. It survived him. Possibly because you were off dimension at the time so it backed up like a stepped on hose.”. Eris rolled their shoulders. “So it's stronger than expected or it's stuck.” 

Dajan just stared, wordless, too stunned to make a sound. 

“All right, all right,” Eris held up their hands. “Let me ask around. Like I said, dead is not the fun kind of--” and they were gone. 

“I'm dead,” Dajan whispered. “In I dunno how long, I'm just gonna be a conversation piece that sings.” 

“Not yet,” Ford said gently, lifting a hand to her face. “There's a way to undo this and we’ll find it. I have waited thirty years and crossed oceans of space-time to find you.” Dajan crumpled against him, and he wrapped an arm around her. Stanley and Soos let them have the space. 

 

The night passed in uneasy quiet. Ford, despite the crash effect the love God had predicted from the go potions, was still awake and pacing like a jungle cat most of the night. Dajan slept only a little. 

Things did not look any better in the morning. Stanley had come to check on them, then retired to his office. Soos made sure everyone was eating and staying hydrated, but the mood remained grim until Wendy showed up.   
Once caught up to speed, Wendy took one look at all the solemn faces and shook her head. “I can't believe that not one of you thought of a seance! We live in the weirdness capital of the continent!” She flicked back the bill of her ball cap and said, “We have the candles and whatnot here already. Call the dude long distance to the afterlife! And I think we’ll need the whole circle for this one, so start making calls, you guys!”

The circle was an ancient form of magic that had been around since before the town itself. They tried it against Cipher, channeling innate traits of each person in it. Unfortunately, it only worked when all members were of an accord. The brothers had been unable to manage it the first time with too much unspoken and unforgiven between them. Cipher had come within a hair of winning everything. This time, though, they were best friends again. 

Ford leapt to his feet and gave Wendy a brief embrace, eyes bright once again. “Classic case of being too close to the problem to see it. Well done, Wendy.” 

Wendy simply tossed her hair and shrugged as if it were nothing. “So we're on for midnight.” 

By the time the evening was heading towards midnight, things were falling into place. Ford had cleared a roomy spot in the woods and set up torches. He had also recreated the circle with flat rocks on which he had drawn the corresponding symbols. 

Mabel and Dipper had to call in with their phones, and hold hands on video. They were the first to arrive for the conference call.

Fiddleford McGuckett arrived next, curious and very concerned as to what would warrant using the Zodiac again. It came to the point of Ford having to recap the entire summer and introduce Dajan herself before the engineer was convinced the assembly was for a purpose he could live with. “Heck fire, can't let the li’l lady turn into an inanimate.” He bent and kissed her hand. 

Robbie V arrived next, clearly dubious about his last encounter with ghosts but dutifully wearing his hoodie. Wendy promised the ghost they were after this time did not have a hate on for teens. He gawked at Dajan but said nothing. 

Pacifica Northwest, carrying the Llama sweater, showed up out of admitted curiosity; her life as a non rich person had been an adjustment. She also looked faintly disappointed that Dipper had only showed remotely. “Sorry,” Dipper explained from the phone. “Too short notice to get us out in person.”

Finally, Gideon Gleeful arrived, making his entrance quiet and respectful. It seemed he was serious about his promise to do better after his experiences. He merely bobbed his head politely in greeting, then stood at parade rest until they got started, not even so much as glancing at Dajan. 

When Ford’s watch chimed midnight, they began, Wendy leading the proceedings. “We have gathered here to ask the beyond to help us save a friend and loved one from a fate worse than death. If any kind spirit knows of a curse placed on a visitor to this home, we ask you. Help us save an innocent life. Three times: please aid us. Please aid us. Please aid us! “

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a sharp wind circled the clearing, dimming the torches briefly. The air went entirely still and the torches flared blue flames. 

“Pacifica, child,” echoed a voice from nowhere. “ Good to see you!” The owner of the voice, a bearded ghost, glowed bluely into visibility. 

“Old Lumberjack ghost,” replied Pacifica politely, lacking a name to address him. “Nice to see you too.” Amazingly, since the ghost had removed the curse on what was now McGuckett’s home, Pacifica had developed a healthy respect for matters supernatural, even if she maintained her shallow rich girl facade. Stranger still, the ghost had been believed gone for good after Pacifica had showed compassion. 

The elder Pines twins explained the situation and the curse with its countdown. When they got to the point of elaborating that the original thrower of the curse was dead, the former ghost of Northwest Manor laughed without humor. “Bad form to not make him remove the curse, but perhaps they believed it would die with him. Spells like that…’if I can't have you, no one shall’, especially when cast against one who never wronged them? Powerful, and pernicious. Likely witches cast a curse on him for trying to treat a living being like property. ”

“Is there a way to break it?” Gideon asked, face pale and expression horrified. “The lady didn't deserve that.” He cast a pained, apologetic look at Mabel, who nodded sharply at Gideon in return from Ford’s phone. Mabel looked tired; keeping good thoughts for Ford’s happy ending with Dajan was not as easily sustained over time, even for her. 

The sigh of relief that went around the circle at the ghost’s pensive affirmation was almost inaudible. “Have you anything the sorcerer loved in life aside from the lady?”

The groan of dismay was louder. “He didn't love her, he wanted to possess her. Because of a series of misunderstandings.” Ford’s voice was taut with frustration he had no valid outlet for; the spellcaster was dead and they were no closer to solving the problem. In the time they'd been back, the wood to flesh effect had crept all the way up Dajan’s ribcage. 

“The… Uh...hand witch might,” suggested Stan. “She doesn't care much for men who take what’s not theirs.” 

“Back to the Dark Market, then. Thank you all for coming,” Ford gave a respectful nod to the ghost. “Especially you, Lumberjack. We will find the way to stop this curse.”

The ghost, pleased, nodded. “I wish you well. Pacifica, remain compassionate. I wish there was more I could do. Stand fast. ” He reached out to pat Pacifica fondly, then vanished.


	8. Harpstrings and Heartstrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything to break the spell on Dajan has failed. Will their last ditch effort succeed?

“We can skip the market,”. Stan was already on his feet and gesturing to Soos and Wendy. “Old bat…” Stan shuddered, “Lives in this cave in the woods. Let's get this over with.”

Fiddleford yawned, but flipped a switch on his goggles. They produced lights. “We messin’ with a witch, we best keep the circle together. Let’s haul, y’all.” 

“Thank you all,” Ford spoke with sincerity. “It's time you all met Dajan properly.” Wendy and Soos had quietly slipped away to get her, and the latter was carrying her on his back. 

“Um, hi. Sorry we’re meeting under such strange and strained circumstances.” They went around the circle, introducing those Dajan had never met, and those she knew of from stories. “It's truly amazing that you're willing to help out like this.” 

“This family did all they could for this town when we needed them,” Gideon explained, eyes downcast. “Even when some of us had done wrong by them first. Least we could do is return the gesture.”

“Hey,” Robbie spoke up in recognition. “You're the Float Girl. That's where I know your face!”

Dajan smiled sheepishly, “Guilty. I had no idea it would end up this way…” 

“What do you mean, Chica?” Wendy asked from the rear of the marching order. “If we have to have weird excitement at least it’s for a friend.” 

The moon was near setting when they arrived at the home of the witch. “Sorry for dropping in without calling,” Stan called into the cave mouth, without a trace of sincerity. “But it's an emergency.” 

“Is that that cute Stan Pines?” came a voice echoing from the cave. 

Stan shuddered again. “Yeah… It’s me. And some friends. Got a problem you might could help us with.”

“Well, come in then.” 

The old woman known as the Hand Witch sat on a throne made of disembodied hands. Every article of furniture in the rather spacious cavern was. Several hands galloped to and fro like pets. “Well, well, you brought a crowd all right. And aren't you looking shined up like a new penny, Stan! So what can I do for you all in the middle of the night?” 

“You recently acquire a pair of hands from a sorcerer put down for an enslavement spell?” Ford asked, eliciting a double take from the witch. 

“Oh, the douchecanoe,” the witch sneered. “Yes. I have them. What do you want with them?” 

“He never reversed his curse before your witch sisters took him out. And it's progressing to the point it'll finish its work soon.” Ford glanced between Dajan and the witch, expression unreadable. 

The witch got up and tapped the frame of the harp. Dajan flinched. “Ouch,” but made no further complaint.

“That is a nasty one. Gravity Falls has a bunch of ley lines but none strong as the one he pulled from. But I can try pulling some of that into the one here in the cave. She lifted her hands and began murmuring. “They only call me Hand witch. You think I've survived up here on hands alone? HAH!” 

The pair of hands that belonged to the dead sorcerer did not appear willing to comply. They crept out of the shadows reluctantly, nails half covered in chipped, shimmery black nail polish. The witch snapped something in what sounded like Russian, and the hands walked over on their fingertips. “Ornery spirit still attached to the hands. Mad he had to pay for what he did. Trying to block the mana transfer.” The witch stared down at the hands which struggled to escape but were held tight. “No more of that, you. You brought this on yourself.” The hands began frantically gesturing. 

“What? You'll challenge the girl to a game for her curse? She doesn't owe you that!”

The Witch watched the disembodied hands at her feet. “I ought to put you through a woodchipper.” Turning back to the group, she sighed. “Kids, he's not budging. Either she plays him for her freedom, and his own life, or she's on her own.”

“Dajan…” Ford began, eyes conveying his emotions to her even if the rest of his face was implacable. 

“So anybody got Candy Crush on their phone?” Robbie suggested hopefully. 

Dajan laughed nervously. “I rock at hopscotch, but.” 

“It's not fair,” Pacifica stomped her foot. “Forget this!” She rummaged in her sweater and produced another of her family’s silver mirrors. This one had a long handle. “You don't know how to treat a lady!” she slapped the mirror across where the wrists belonged, and the sorcerer hands dropped lifeless to the floor. 

“Go, Pacifica!” Dipper cheered from the phone. Mabel squealed along. 

Pacifica handed the mirror to the witch, who displayed a grey ghost wearing a Trilby and sulking out of the trap at them. The witch offered him one more chance to do right by his victim, and banished him without another word when he refused.

“Now what, dudes? He's gone or whatever, and our friend is still in a jam.” 

“We've still got one card left to play,” Ford said quietly. Circle up with Dajan in the center. Soos obediently put her in the center as the others took positions. 

Ford pulled a small cube from his pocket and held it out to Dajan. “This is very dangerous. Anything could happen. Roll right and the curse will fall.” 

Dipper gasped. “The Infinity die.” 

“Desperate times,” Ford placed the die in her hands and folded her fingers over it. “Forgive me for waiting so long.” 

Dajan smiled halfway. “If we get a out of this, I see a lot of chocolate sundaes in your future. What do I have to do?”

“Roll like Alexandrerios,” Dipper and Ford said together. 

Dajan nodded, and then gasped. The curse had entered its final stages. The wood was no longer creeping but racing up her skin, down along her arms, reacting as if it knew its existence was endangered. “Mama needs a new Magic Bell Flower!”. 

As the wood covered her face and left arm, Dajan turned her hand and let the die roll. “Fooorrrrrd--” 

“No!” 

“Kid!” 

The die hit the cave floor, rolled, and spun like a top, putting off psychedelic lights. 

Dajan retained her shape as the top half of the harp but was completely transformed into wood. 

The others simply closed the space when Ford broke the circle with an unspoken agreement. They also turned and looked away from the scene. 

“Come on, everybody. Let him have a chance to say his goodbyes,” Stanley said quietly, eyes lowered. “Thanks for trying,” he added to the witch. “Just let him have a minute.” He shooed everyone out of the cave, leaving Ford alone with the harp and the still spinning die. 

“I'm sorry,” Ford whispered, gazing bleakly at the now-lifeless harp. “I wanted to be your hero. I wanted to wait until we… until I was victorious...to tell you I love you. I failed you.” Despite her being nothing more than a wood sculpture of herself, Ford leaned in and kissed her lips. One tear rolled off his chin and onto the back of Dajan’s hand… 

… And the light in the cave suddenly turned intruder alert red. Startled, Ford looked down, and found that the infinity die had finally stopped right between the end of his right boot and the foot of the harp. The intense shade of red came from the fact that the die had finally stopped: on double hearts. 

Ford stared down in disbelief at the die, ready to swear and kick it straight off the mountain. But before he could pick up his foot, he was bowled over from behind. An unconscious but completely alive Dajan, covered in silver bracelets, necklaces, and the skimpy white silks had landed on him. 

Ford pocketed the die with a stunned expression. 

“You giant nerd,” Stan said from the cave mouth. “The kid’s part faerie and you never thought of True Love’s Kiss? Jeez, man. Let's get out of here. The rest of the kids are about to fall asleep on their feet, and the witch wants her cave back.”

Ford, smiling through relieved tears, took off That Cool Coat and wrapped it around Dajan, who sighed contentedly, snuggled closer to him and otherwise made no indication she was going to awaken.


	9. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning.

The Mystery Shack looked like a slumber party the next morning. Pacifica had opted to stay over, and Soos and Wendy had both been too tired to drive. Only Gideon and Robbie had left before dawn. 

Dajan stretched, wiggled her toes, and rolled over in her convertible before it hit her. “Toes!” she whispered to herself in happy confusion. 

“Ten lovely toes. I counted.”

Dajan looked over the side of the foldabed and found a wide awake Ford beaming at her with the most unguarded smile she'd ever seen on his face.

“And no harpstrings,” added Stanley from the doorway. “Welcome back, ya little troublemaker.”

Ford had already sprung to his feet, ready for Dajan’s restored ebullience. “Whoop!” And into his waiting arms she fell when she tried to leap out of bed. 

“Ten toes,” Ford reiterated, “But you spent half a year without workable legs, it may be a little while before the muscle memory kicks in.” 

“So I'm gonna ask how long I was asleep…” Dajan looked between the twins. 

“Not even a night,” Stan shrugged. “Why?” 

“‘Cause you both look like you've been hitting the gym and the spa?”

“Sixer, did you drop her on her head?” 

“No seriously! Cover your ears.” Dajan pulled just a touch of Banshee into her voice and shouted for Wendy. The windows rattled. “Dude, tell me I'm not seeing things, how do the twins look to you?” 

Wendy made a show of yawning and rubbing her eyes. But she blinked and took a good look, tilting her head in bewilderment. “Kinda buff. I'm either still asleep or they're like looking good for dudes their age.” 

The twins looked from the two women to the compact Wendy pulled out of her boot. There was still grey in their hair, but there was a lot more brown mixed in now. They looked like a pair of prematurely grey thirty somethings. The brothers blinked at their reflections, then at each other. 

“All this has been a rejuvenating experience, then?” Dajan suggested. 

“Works for me,” Stanley smirked, ushering Wendy out and shutting the door to what was rapidly becoming Dajan’s room. 

“A mystery for another time, Dajan. In case you lost a few minutes last night along with the curse, I should tell you again: I love you.” His smile took on a bashful quirk. “And I shouldn't have waited so long to tell you.”

“I love you too.” 

Ford blinked, as Dajan, instead of kissing him as expected, pulled his glasses off. “I need those.” 

“In a sec.” Dajan darted her tongue out and licked the cracked lens. She swiped a finger over the glass and when she lifted it, the crack was gone. She put them back on his nose. 

“Sweet Moses! What was that… Aside from er, uncannily stirring?” He tugged at his turtleneck. 

“What my magic is good for.”

Ford kept his arm around Dajan. “Good to see it’s back.” Eyes suddenly widening with realization, Ford pulled out his talisman. The crack in the heart had gone completely, leaving the heart whole in the palm of the six fingered hand. 

Ford closed his eyes. “That's a good thing too.”

Dajan made a contented sigh of agreement. “So how long do you think we can just hole up in here before--” 

She didn't even get to finish the sentence. Ford’s phone rang, and he reluctantly answered, reasoning that if it was important, they'd just keep calling. “Stanford Pines.”

The stream of enraged invective that came from the phone blew Dajan’s curls straight. As her hair recovered, Dajan took the phone from Ford. “Hi, Khrys. Yes, it was supposed to be only Labor Day weekend. No, I did not know we’re at the beginning of. No, Khrys. Yes, Khrys. Did you know I almost… You did. A harp, Khrys. No. Not my magic. Why don't you visit again, and… Okay. Yes. Fine. Sorry. Okay already. I'll see you then. Do not make a big entrance! Bye.”

“She's going to ignore the big entrance thing, isn't she?” Ford gently lowered the phone to the floor, as if it might bite. 

“Almost certainly,” Dajan replied with wry amusement. She began pulling off all the ornamentation left over from the curse. Rings and bracelets clinked to the blanket. Ford reached up to assist with the necklaces. 

“How long do you think we have before she gets here?” 

“We can count ourselves lucky she's not already here.” 

On cue, there was a knock at the back door. 

Stan answered, crankily. With the teenagers exhausted from circling half the night, he'd had to do the thing he hated most -- closing the Shack and giving his employees a paid day off. All concerns which blew out of his head when he saw the woman standing on the porch. 

Six foot tall at bare minimum, but she was wearing stilettos in a shade of red his Ma would've slapped him for saying aloud. The maxi dress matched. The lipstick too. Her hair was not a curly explosion like Dajan’s. It was a wavy black cascade down her back as she tossed it over one shoulder. The golden ram horns sticking out of her forehead did nothing whatsoever to detract from the full, impossibly curvy, inhumanly attractive picture. The cheekbones and freckles indicated this woman was a relative of Dajan’s. Where Dajan had gotten cute and big eyed with the legs that went on for days, this one had ended up with all the “Ma warned me about girls like you”. She practically had her own string section playing from somewhere unseen. 

For once, Stanley Pines, fast talking con artist, had nothing to say. 

“You'll catch flies,” said Khrys, using her forefinger to shut Stan’s mouth. “Which one are you again? Less silver, more fox than last time. I approve.” The finger twirled through Stan’s sideburns as she stepped past him into the Shack. 

“You… Must be… Terrifying Cousin Khrys,” Stanley finally found his voice. 

Khrys laughed, a sound like ice thawing in springtime on a sunny day. It was the sort of sound that heralded warmth, but one wrong move and one could easily be swept away on an icy current too fast to swim. “Only when I'm mad.” 

I bet you're gorgeous when you're mad occurred to him, but some sense of self preservation made Stan hold his tongue. “Came to see your cousin is in one piece?” 

“That,” Khrys confirmed, “and to properly appreciate you for what you've done. The way I see it, you two went through an arduous quest. That's a big deal in our family.” 

Whatever Khrys did to amplify her voice put precise cracks in every triangular window in the house, straight through the circle in the center of each. “Dajan.” 

“Stop yelling and making a scene. Honestly. I'm fine. I'm right here.” Dajan glowered at her cousin from the comfy chair as she continued pulling bracelets. “My phone got smashed in a fight. Fix gave you Ford’s number and here we are.”

Ford, taking his name as a cue, stepped forward to introduce himself. 

“I know who you are. The other silver fox. With the cleft. Yep, a girl could cut herself on that. I do pay attention. Well, Ford Pines, I'm the protective cousin, and I'd like a word.”

“Khrys…” Dajan’s voice held a note of warning. 

“I promise. Words only,” Khrys crossed her heart. 

Ford led Khrys into the kitchen. “I expect this is where I get the warning. I break her heart, you turn me into… Something humiliating. With a short life span.”

Khrys gave him a slow smile. “You're quick. I approve.”

Ford reached into his T-shirt and pulled out his talisman, letting it rest on his chest. “Not that either of us plans for more misadventures. But I swore to find her. If she needs me, I will find her. Whatever it takes.” 

Khrys’ green eyes widened. “You took an oath for my baby cousin?” Her face fell in an expression of stunned wonder. 

Ford nodded once. “It was required to make the thing work. I drove her away due to my own issues, and as such, I owed her a big apology. This was the only way. It was the only decision I could live with.” 

“... you know those things are binding.”

“I know. It sinks into the flesh, becomes a tattoo when it's active. It's fine.” 

“Well then,” pouted Khrys. “you don't need the threat if you are serious enough to get a gizmo that takes that much out of you. I guess we're done here, and I'll let you two get back to the mushy stuff. Your brother, though, acted as squire to your knight for all intents and purposes, so I'm going to give him a little Hero’s welcome. You can expect him back in a night. ”

Khrys and Ford returned to the other room. Khrys sashayed over to Stan. “On behalf of our family, we offer you a Hero’s welcome. Do you accept?” 

“Yeah, sure,” said Stan, expecting some form of payment. But instead Khrys got her arms around him, dipped him toward the floor and laid a rather extravagant kiss on him. She set him back on his feet, and pulled Stan along by the gold chain he wore. Smiling goofily with surprise on his face, Stan followed. 

Dajan simply grinned knowingly. “You two crazy kids have a good time!” 

Khrys winked at her cousin, and walked out through the back door with Stan in tow. They never showed up on the porch. 

“Do I need to be concerned?” Ford asked, brows lifted high. 

“Nah. If I know Khrys, figure Stan will come back in a very good mood, well rested, well fed. Aaaannnnd with a good story he won't be able to share with Dipper and Mabel.” 

“Oh?” Beat. “Ohhhh.”

“So the Shack’s ours for the day. What do we do?”

Ford tapped his chin thoughtfully. “How about you stay right here and indulge this young old man and his odd paranoid quirk about losing the important people in his life?”

“I think I can do that. We haven't had a nice peaceful date since… What is today's date anyway?”


End file.
